


I Don't Dance

by CeceVolume



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Except With You, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I don't dance, Post-Season/Series 04, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:33:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24135154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeceVolume/pseuds/CeceVolume
Summary: Chloe never realized what Lucifer did for her, until he was gone.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 3
Kudos: 93





	I Don't Dance

Chloe Decker never thought she was much for dancing. Sure, she could cut loose at the end of the week with a cocktail, her Tribe, and maybe make an ass out of herself at LUX or any of the other clubs they dragged her along to.

But sober and with a partner? Probably not going to happen.

There were times she had: her first date with Dan, at their wedding, sometimes in the living room before they started drifting apart. And, obviously, she would gladly grab hold of Trixie’s hands to spin around to whatever new song had imprinted in her daughter’s brain (she’d been glad when Let It Go had disappeared from her repertoire seemingly overnight).

At the LAPD Ball, though, she was known to loiter around the edges until she’d made enough of an appearance to leave without being rude. It was bad enough to be expected to buy a new dress every year that wasn’t comfortable; there wasn’t a chance she was getting on the dancefloor to make an ass out of herself.

All this had changed, though, when Lucifer Morningstar had entered her life. It hadn’t started until nearly a year into their partnership, but after that first dance after she gave him a night’s reprieve from losing LUX, he had somehow been able to convince her into dance after dance.

When he had started coming to Decker Girls Night In, he’d insisted on teaching both her and Trixie how to waltz. Karaoke time became a chance to cut a rug while the girls fell into fits of giggling. When the eight-year-old would start in on her Disney medley, he would easily swoop Chloe into his arms, face paint or stickers or press-on tattoo shining like a trophy.

Then, of course, there were the nights they would stay up with a bottle of wine and discuss the wear of the last case. Most of the time, the music just played in the background, but he would, from time to time, rise and extend a hand in invitation. It wasn’t impatient or demanding; just an offer she was free to refuse. And, sometimes, she did. She would be so worn out that she’d just give him a smile and a shake of her head, and he would return her grin before retrieving another bottle of wine.

She couldn’t discount the time they’d been undercover and had to blend in at some society soiree. Lucifer, as always, had entranced everyone in the room, whether with his charm or that strange magnetism of his. Schmoozing seemed to be his default setting, and she’d just followed along on his arm, accepting a glass of champagne and the looks of envy from the others surrounding them. He’d really gone the whole nine yards with their attire, though she figured it was just his affinity for shopping; she was in a beautiful, deep burgundy dress that swept the floor and his tux had—unsurprisingly—been tailored to perfection.

As they waited for their killer to show, he’d suggested at least enjoying a bit of their time before leading her to waltz in the middle of the dancefloor. At first, she’d been so embarrassed, glancing this way and that, but then he’d spoken to her, his voice so low, so reverential, that the rest of the room faded away. “You look absolutely stunning, Detective,” he’d murmured, his voice nearly inaudible. “Rest assured, there isn’t a single person here who doesn’t envy me your attention.”

Of course, it had always been so easy with him. Falling into the habit of just swaying together, of always being with the other. For the one LAPD Ball he’d attended, there hadn’t been any question of who was taking her. Everyone in the precinct had asked when _they_ would be arriving, if _they_ had gotten their outfits yet.

His only question had been what time they were expected to be there.

It was the only Ball she’d stayed until the bitter end for, dancing like crazy and having more than just one glass of wine. She hadn’t even thought about leaving, just followed his lead. Somehow, it was so much easier to be around everyone, to chat with officers and their spouses, even if she barely knew them. Ella had brought Amenadiel, Maze brought Linda, Dan and Charlotte had been there, too.

And it was _fun_. She’d had her friends and her partner.

She’d danced so much, her feet ached for two full days, despite Lucifer rubbing them down once they’d reached her apartment. They’d just sat on the couch until the wee hours of the morning, chatting while his fingers massaged her arches.

Now, though, it was hard. She didn’t _want_ to dance, now that he was gone. She didn’t want to remember about how they’d missed a chance at another night like that because she’d been frightened of him. She didn’t want to remember the Ball just months before he’d left, how she’d missed having him, how jealous she had been to know that he was in his penthouse or club dancing the night away with Eve. She didn’t want to feel that disgust with herself for knowing it was _her_ fault that she’d missed him.

If she hadn’t been so weak, hadn’t run off once she’d seen his face, everything wouldn’t have happened. Father Kinley wouldn’t have come to Los Angeles and set in motion all those demons coming to Earth. If she’d had the trust in her partner that he’d had in her, she wouldn’t be standing on the edge of the party for the second year in a row, waiting for it to be acceptable to leave.

She would have had him before, and she would have had him now.

Sniffling gently so as not to alert Maze—who had made it her mission to watch Chloe’s back throughout this whole party—she glanced at the dainty watch at her wrist and stifled a groan.

It had only been an hour and a half.

“You know,” the demon next to her muttered, eyeing a cluster of uniforms that kept glancing towards them, “you could go out there and dance, if you’re that bored.”

Chloe thought about it for a moment but couldn’t gather up the enthusiasm. Shaking her head, she murmured, “No, I think I’m just going to go. The champagne isn’t sitting well.”

Letting out a sharp laugh, Maze answered, “You know, you can’t bullshit a bullshitter. I get it; you miss him.” There was a small pause, the detective noting a bit of mistiness in the demon’s eyes, though she was smart enough not to comment on it. “But he’s not just going to show up in the middle of some charity event to whisk you off; he’s not coming back.”

As pain lanced through her chest, Chloe watched Maze stride purposefully towards the crowd that had been watching them, letting her words sink in for what felt like the millionth time.

_He’s not coming back_.

She knew that, obviously. He’d said as much on the balcony. He had a responsibility, and it was her fault that he had to go back to it. All of it was her fault, and she needed to come to terms.

But that didn’t make it easier to do something that only he had really made fun. Even if they’d never had their moment in the sun, even if they’d always said it was platonic, it didn’t change that she didn’t dance.

Except with him.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Chloe left. She called a cab from outside the venue and given them the only address she could think of.

-.-

Walking into LUX in a full gown had been a bit embarrassing, but, luckily, the bouncers and bartenders recognized her and didn’t give her any guff as she strode to the elevator. Maze’s first order of business after being put in charge had been to put a keypad lock on the lift, giving the Tribe the passcode. They had all joked about how easy it was, questioning why Lucifer had never done so before.

“Why should he have?” the demon had demanded before shooting back a few fingers of whiskey. “He was the apex predator until Decker came into his life.”

Ella had laughed at that. “Well, love makes you vulnerable, puts the power in someone else’s hands.”

_That’s enough of that,_ she thought with a shudder at the memory of how revolted she’d been with herself. How could she have done that to him, put him through all that? He could have disappeared the moment he realized that she made him bleed, but he’d stuck by her for almost three years. He’d _died_ for her, at least twice, though there had been other close calls.

And all he’d wanted in return was for a dance here and there.

Eyes full of tears, she strode through the opening elevator doors, straight towards the balcony. The air was cool, a light breeze blowing her curled hair over her shoulders. She welcomed the feeling, listening to the faraway sound of traffic below. Just something to calm her down, to make her think about something other than all those times she’d let him down when he’d done so much for her that she hadn’t even paid attention to.

_Lucifer, I don’t wanna dance!_

_No, no, no, you’re the guest of honor now! Come on!_

It had started it all. Well, not all of the feelings. But it had been that moment that had made it so much more for her. Who else could get her to dance along to The Clash in the middle of a crowded club? Who else would throw her a prom just because she had never gotten to go? Who else could make her _want_ to stay for the entirety of a ball full of people who’d, at best, only tolerated her presence?

Who else would break his own heart leaving her behind and make her hate all the things he had made fun?

With a sob, she clenched her hands on the guardrail, head dropping low. She missed him. Not just the dancing, but what it had meant to her. Why had she been so blind? Why had she let fear destroy everything they had created? Why had she been so _stupid_ as to think that him being the Devil had changed anything of the man she’d known?

Why hadn’t she been for him what he was for her?

-.-

For the first time in what had been anywhere from a day to an eternity, Lucifer Morningstar took a deep breath of clean, fresh air. The feathers of his wings caught the gentle gust of wind on the beach, releasing the scent of ash and sulfur from their white lengths and making him shudder against an onslaught of memories.

He was so bloody tired—of the uprisings, of the screaming, of the torment. It had taken almost all of his power to seal the barrier, something he knew wouldn’t work forever. _A temporary fix to an eternal problem,_ he thought melancholy, turning his gaze listlessly towards the Los Angeles skyline, focusing in the direction of the LUX building.

Even from his spot miles away, Lucifer could see the faint light illuminating the penthouse in the darkness of early nightfall, his heart leaping in his chest at the outline he could swear waited for him on the balcony.

He didn’t know what day it was or even if it was Chloe, but it didn’t stop him from spreading his wings, readying for flight.

_This_ was why he had returned, the moment he was about to land in. He had hoped he had calculated out to see her, if for the last time, at the LAPD Ball, to dance away the anxiety and depression of his time in Hell for a few hours, to pretend he wouldn’t have to return at day break. If only for a little while, he’d wanted to be with her, to hold her.

So, he took off, enjoying the rush of air against his skin and through his hair. The pungent odor of brimstone and fire washed away from him to be replaced with the scent of salt and ocean. Sighing into the feeling, he watched as the figure dipped low in what could have been a bow, his heart clenching at the idea that it might be Mazikeen sensing his return.

Either way, he would have to go to the penthouse before he went to the detective; the suit he’d worn down to Hell was hardly in good condition.

Avoiding the balcony, Lucifer landed just outside his bedroom, striding purposefully in. More fear and worry exploded within him as he realized just how much could have changed. No matter how long he’d been gone, Chloe might have moved on; humans hardly had all the time in the world to wait around. Or, despite Azrael’s promise to tell him when the detective’s time was up, she could have slipped past her sister’s busy schedule and was already in the Silver City, far from his reach.

It was something he dreaded every waking moment; at least if she was with someone else, he would be able to see her and know she was happy.

As his heartrate increased, he tried to breathe evenly, striding towards the bar in the living area. At the very least, he was going to be able to enjoy a decent dirty martini before he was forced to face his fears.

The sob that echoed around him was what stopped him as he reached for a shaker, everything freezing within and around him.

Slowly, he turned towards the woman on the balcony, really looking at her for the first time up close. She wore a dark, burgundy gown with minimal accoutrements, just a silver outline with ruby jewels along the shoulder-less sleeves that ran down the length of her arms to a point attached to her ring finger. The A-line suited her slim frame, trailing just slightly behind her. Her long blonde hair was curled, a thin band twisted to pull half away from her face, little silver combs sparkling there. From her ears, two silver triangles with just a hint of the red stones that outlined her chest.

“Chloe?” he breathed, unable to stop himself.

-.-

At the sound of her name, she twisted, tears still trailing mascara down her cheeks. She didn’t bother trying to wipe at them, couldn’t do anything but swallow against the tightness in her throat as her eyes caught sight of him.

His suit was dirty, covered in soot and ragged tearing. His hair was disheveled, long lacking any product to control his natural curls. His face was much the same, though his eyes were missing the mischievous twinkle that she was surprised had become one of her subconscious views of him. She wanted to reach out and touch that stubble along his chin, if only to be sure that it was real.

“Lucifer?” she croaked, her voice breaking as she started towards him. “Did you….”

She broke off when he started determinedly towards her, her fingers drifting across either cheek as if to make sure this was really happening, that she wasn’t just dreaming. As she watched his single-minded approach, she wondered if he knew that he looked exactly like the Greeks described Odysseus when he returned to Ithaca: strong but ragged, very nearly broken.

Chloe hoped that was how she looked to him.

He stopped just ahead of her as her hands fell to her sides, one gingerly lifting to clench around the bottom of his suit jacket. His own fingers brushed against her cheek, catching the moisture there. “It’s strange,” he murmured absently, and she wondered if he even knew he was speaking aloud, “that even with mascara running down your face, you look awe-inspiring.”

With an almost deranged laugh, she threw her arms around his shoulders, digging her fingers into the hair at the back of his head to bring him down into a hard kiss. His arms stuttered for a moment at his sides as if he didn’t know what to do before he seemed to get where she was going with it, crushing her to him.

Losing touch with anything other than having him in her arms, she thought of nothing but the fact that he was _home_ and he was _real_ and she could finally, _finally_ apologize for everything she’d done to them.

Much to her dismay, he broke the kiss too soon, his forehead resting on hers as their harsh breaths mingled in the air between them. “I….” he started slowly, his throat tightening as he tried to find the words. “I was hoping to be your date to the Ball. I suppose, given your gown, that I’ve just missed it.”

She laughed lightly. “There’s always next year.” He clenched his eyes shut, and she realized, heart breaking, that this wasn’t a homecoming, but a visit. They were quiet for a few moments, just relishing the chance to hold each other before she spoke again. “Besides, my dance partner wasn’t there, so I left early. I could get cleaned up if you want to—”

“No,” he whispered, a small smile gracing his lips. “I’d rather not share your time or concentration on anyone else.”

Understanding and agreeing completely, she murmured, “Well, I know a place with a great sound system that we could have to ourselves. For one dance, at least.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm feeling angsty these days, so sorry for the ambiguous/unhappy ending.


End file.
